Angelica Schuyler and John Church
by sarcastic commentator
Summary: It was a rocky road, filled with love, and happiness, and loss, and grief. She didn't know what had happened to them, but she did know that it hadn't started like this. Angelica Schuyler and John Church really did love each other, they never stopped, but sometimes love isn't enough, and one just had to hope. So, this is their story, from beginning to end.
1. Chapter 1

_1814,_

_I first met him when he came to her father's home early in the war, in 1776, trying to sell the general artillery for the war effort. He didn't try to hide his English background, and my father didn't try to hide his dislike for him. I had been curious about the mysterious young man then, he had been the only new, exciting thing for miles, especially with the sudden crackdown on safety Father was putting me through, what with the war on the horizon. He was so interesting and new, and a future with him opened up so many new possibilities. Even then, I had always longed for an adventure, for a way out, and here, I got what I wanted in a pretty, well-mannered man who I thought would make me happy. _

_Then, we travelled back to his hometown, to London. I bore him eight beautiful children, and only five made it to adulthood. I distanced herself from him, drifting away at galas to other men. He stopped treating me as if I was the only one in the world for him. Our life became normal, the usual, boring. I became normal, the usual, boring. _

_-Angelica Church_

_16th July, 1774_

Angelica Schuyler

Angelica Schuyler was known throughout New York, be it for her beauty, or her riches, or her spirit. Today, however, she was not feeling up to the task of being herself. Buried to the nose in blankets and wearing an oversized shirt with loose pants, she had no desire to leave her warm bed and face the world awaiting her. Of course, there was also no way she could _avoid _being herself today. Father had yet another suitor lined up for her, ready to go. Could he not take a hint, her father? She had no intention of marrying anyone she did not genuinely like...unless they owned, for example, a _palace, _or something; she wasn't stupid!

Nevertheless, she was determined not to go on this matchup. It wasn't like she hadn't gotten out of them before, she would just have to be a little creative. So, Angelica continued lying in her cozy bed until she was disturbed. It didn't take long at all, for soon after, her sister Eliza opened the door quietly, and tiptoed in, giggling.

Angelica poked her head above the mountains of pillows, and set her plan into motion.

'I'm sick…' she told her sister, pouting at Eliza with doe eyes. Eliza had just come in with a bell and a bucket of water, ready to pour the contents onto her sister; it always _had _been Angelica who never got out of bed in the mornings, and this time it was her turn to do the honours of waking her up. Still, she sat the pitcher and bell down onto the large oak bedside table immediately, and went to her sister's side. After all, Eliza's favourite game had always been "house", and she loved to mother her siblings, never mind if they were older than her.

'What's wrong?' Eliza asked, sitting down in the bed beside Angelica,

'My throat hurts and I'm having the worst headache…' Angelica moaned, perhaps a bit too dramatically for people who normally had sore throats. Her sister was very reliable though.

'Oh no! Are you seriously ill? I thought you were just fine when you went to sleep last night!' She gasped. A smile flit across her older sister's mouth for a split second, before she was groaning again,

'Maybe I ought to stay in bed for the day, lest it get any worse,' Angelica proposed dolefully, and Eliza agreed right away.

'Yes, that might be right. I'll go and tell mother straight away!' Eliza declared, hopping off the comfortable bed. Angelica cursed inwardly, her mother would never have fallen for this charade; never in a million years.

'How about you just tell the nanny, we don't want to bother mother, especially so early in the morning?' Angelica called after her sister, who was already at the other end of her room. Eliza halted,

'But it's already eight o'clock!' she exclaimed, 'surely mother is awake by now?'

'Yes,' replied Angelica, still trying desperately to figure out a way to stay in her comfortable, warm bed for the rest of the morning, 'but you know hor irritable she is when she hasn't had her tea in the morning, and I would hate for her to snap at you because of me.'

Eliza nodded, albeit hesitantly, but who would want to be berated for the slightest reason by an angry, sleepy mother?

'Maybe I'll tell the Nanny for now, and then later, when Mother is more agreeable, I'll tell her then'

Angelica nodded enthusiastically. She could cross that next bridge when she got to it.

'That's a great plan. Thank you ever so much, 'Liza,' she said, in her sickest voice.

John Church

John Barker Church was very happy with his surroundings, even if he could only barely see them by the light of the moon. Just having disembarked from the long boat-ride from England to America, he was tired, hungry, and positively enamoured with his surroundings. England was a grey place, with hulking stone buildings and people who hurried around doing their business and paying nobody else the time of day. Certainly, he had barely seen three miles of his new home, but he still liked it much better than what he was leaving behind, tiredness talking or not.

Sure he only had four massive bags that carried what were now all his worldly possessions, and yes, the tip he paid coachman was _way _too generous, and he was pretty sure the man was going to spend it all on beer, and yes, he did not know which apartment was his; but those were all problems that could be solved!

All the buildings looked the same, it was almost like he was back in London. The difference was though, that while London was a grey city, filled with char and dust and smog, New York was clean and new and filled to the brim with opportunity. John was left standing there, not knowing what to do for quite some time, before he was finally able to think up an idea. All he had to do was find the name of the hotel, which he was sure he had written into his notebook, and then find the place, which had to be nearby, for he definitely remembered the road on which it was supposed to be.

Setting his bags down at once, he opened up the smallest one, a brown bag he had had slung over his shoulder for the entirety of his journey, containing books, money, food, and, he hoped, the address of his hotel. It was busy work, for, tired as he was, John was careful to keep out of the way of any stray passerby who happened to like taking a midnight walk. It was also incredibly hard, he found, to look for a small notebook in the dark. Finally, when he found it, after having rummaged for about five minutes, and completely disorganizing his rigid system, John realized that reading by almost zero light was...well...about as difficult as it sounded. Squinting, John was able to make out 18 (it could have been 14, he wasn't sure) Bowery Lane, which a quick look at the street signs, thankfully illuminated by the moon, told him that he was on. Taking a second to thank God that he was still on England time for otherwise he would have been as conscious as a canary hit by a car at this time of night, he set off looking for 18 Bowery Lane.

Apparently, the coachman had dropped him off on the wrong end of Bowery Lane, which went on for 300 plots. John's mood started to damped at around house 107, when it started to rain. A lot. House 107 was als the time he realised just how absolutely bone-tired he was, and that he hadn't slept in the last 26 hours. The next fifty houses he walked past were _not _fun. At all.

Eventually, John arrived at 18 Bowery Lane, drenched, ready to drop, and carrying four bags that were just as soaked as he was. To find that it was an almost dilapidated old thing, with walls that were peeling from the outside and a roof he knew was going to cave in - maybe because of the collapsed chimney, but he wasn't an architect. Still, the state John was in, the hote looked just as inviting as anything else.

Panting, he made his way up the front steps, and, praying someone would be awake at this ungodly hour, knocked on the door. Creakily, it opened to reveal a much nicer inside and an old, grandmotherly lady. John stepped inside and tipped his hat to the lady,

'I apologise for the late hour, miss, but I have a room here, under John Church?' he said, feeling his British accent far more keenly than he ever had back in england, where an English accent was no accent.

The lady smiled, revealing an almost full set of teeth, which was an achievement at that age,

'Oh sure, yeah, come right this way, Mr Church, nevermind you me, I was awake still, just can' seem to sleep these days. You're not from here. I can tell, you come from London - you have an air.' she said. John cocked his head,

'Pardon me, but what kind of air do I have, miss?' he asked curiously, and the old woman laughed.

'The soldierly air, of course.' she said, and John was struck silent for a minute.

'Oh, I'm not a soldier, if that's what you mean,' he said quickly, climbing the stairs slower, hampered down by the big bags. The lady looked back for a minute, astonished,

'What do you mean, you're _not _a soldier?' she asked suddenly, 'you're all soldiers, you are, you British redcoats!'

'No, I'm really not!' John said, affronted, 'I actually came to help your cause, I can sell mass ammunition at amazing pries, and good stuff too, it is.'

The lady looked at John with squinted eyes, before coming to a stop at one of the rooms. Silently, she opened it up and showed him in. She left before he could thank her.

The room was actually far nicer than what he had imagined of the old house, but he didn't have time to explore much, for as soon as he had changed out of his soaking wet clothes, he flopped onto the thin bed and fell asleep almost straight away.

_7th December, 1775_

Angelica Schuyler

Snow covered the roads in a thick, white blanket. Even from inside the carriage, Angelica could feel the cold blasts of wind every now and again. The horses were whinnying from the cold, wet snow touching their hooves. The sky was grey and thick with clouds, like it had been for the past month already, Angelica was starting to forget what a nice, clear blue sky looked like.

It felt like they had been travelling for weeks, but in reality, it had only been six days of light, easy travel. Philip Schuyler sr _loved _to tell stories. Constantly. Angelica had almost gone deaf by the time they got to Livingston Manor of stories of how this was nothing, and how back in their day, they would ride non-stop until their horses dropped from exhaustion. Maybe that was why the trip seemed to go by so slowly.

By the time they got to Livingston Manor, she was tired, cold, hungry, and very irritable. Angelica hadn't eaten lunch, for her father had wanted to get there before dusk, so they only food she had eaten was a light breakfast nine hours ago. Angelica could have cried form joy when the carriage weels screeched to a halt against the icy stone road.

Angelica just held back an annoyed sigh when her father, as bad as his knees got during winter, determinedly got out first and held a hand for her as she hopped easily out of the low-lying carriage. He handed the driver a wad of cash and told him to go home and have dinner. The man smiled and thanked Mr Schuyler, before driving away, the markings the carriage made in the snow quickly disappearing.

They were lucky they didn't have to walk the length of the massive pathway, one could barely see the magnificent house from the gates, and Angelica was pretty sure her toes would have fallen off had they not been dropped off at the doorstep. The doors opened before Angelica had ven properly brushed the snow off her boots. A girl much younger than her answered the door, eyes downcast.

'Welcome, sir, madame. Would you like help with your bags?' she asked politely, Philip Schuyler simply grunted in affirmation and pointed towards where the carriage was still standing. She rushed off barefoot in the freezing weather. She didn't say anything. She wasn't allowed to.

They went inside, and were greeted promptly by Wiliam Livingston and his daughter Catharine. William Livingston was a robust man, with a big neck and fat cheeks stuffed into a stiff, high-collared coat. He was smiling good-naturedly and Angelica could tell from just a glance that the man was the epitome of a rich colonist with family money. He was lucky he was already rich to the point of royalty.

Angelica had had the pleasure of getting to know Ms Catharine, or Kitty, Livingston from earlier, and knew from experience that though she was a small girl, she was a mischievous little imp. She was also one of the only reasons Angelica enjoyed coming to Livingston manor.

Both Schuyler's greeted them, and after the necessary formalities, the Livingston's lead them to the dining room. Dining with the entire, massive Livingston family, with the cousins and the aunts and the grandparents and the children and the grandchildren, all under the one roof, was and experience Angelica was not likely to soon forget. Looking around the crowded room, it was hard to bear the noise. She wondered how they lived with it. Still, for a while, it was so very fun, and such a welcome change to the quiet dinners at home.

John Church

He didn't think he would ever get used to the glamorous life the rich folks of New York led. Every single day was filled with galas and parties and balls. Every single meal was a feast. It was amazing fun, event for a self proclaimed veteran of the high-class lives of London socialites. Admitted, his experience of New York was somewhat limited, for he had realised early on that he did _not _have the necessary contacts to have audience with those he wished to.

Still, he had done quite well for himself, if he did say so himself. After months of letters back and forth to the Continental Congress, they had finally given him the honour of overseeing the finances of the Northern Department of the Continental Army. finally the credits from owning a successful banking business and graduating oxford (in that order!) had come handy.

So yes, John Church was incredibly proud of himself; and more so for having gotten himself invited to spend a few nights under the roof of Livingston Manor while he spoke with Robert about the almost certainly coming conflict with England. His living quarters had improved dramatically, and so had his faith in America. Capitalism might not be so bad after all.

After dinner, Angelica was feeling more than a little lost among the aunts and uncles who simply _had _to have a word with the pretty Schuyler girl. Kitty wasn't much help either, for she had flown off into another room, without warning and left Angelica to fend for herself. She really was a great friend. Truly amazing. It was only after the fifth uncle, a certain Roderick Spodecup, that she was able to escape the others, who were roaming the room like sharks hungry for a meal.

Quickly, Angelica darted into the next room, not really caring what it was. She should have though, as it turned out to be a balcony.

'Who keeps a balcony on the ground floor?' she muttered to herself, annoyed and _very _cold, before she noticed the other person who was also shivering on the balcony a little ways beside her. He was wearing a red coat over a white shirt, a choice that, coupled with his English heritage, which almost made Angelica burst into laughter. _Who wears a redcoat when dining with the most patriotic families in New York?_

'I guess you didn't know this was a balcony either?' Angelica asked him, holding out a hand. He laughed,

'No, I'm afraid I wasn't looking where I was going, just away from the dining room!' he commented, shivering dramatically.

'John Church, how do you do?' he added as an afterthought, looking down a bit. She smiled,

'Angelica Schuyler, a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.'


	2. Chapter 2

_31st of December 1775_

New year's celebrations were supposed to be homely, private affairs that only consisted of one's close friends and family. You had a good time, finishing the old year with happy memories and beginning the new year with happy memories. Turning it into an affair to remember for people near and far was nigh unheard of, and even the socialites of New York mostly preferred to enjoy quietly beautiful parties celebrating the year that had been and the year to come. _Mostly, _being the keyword there.

Because of course, New year's eve in the Schuyler household was extravagant by all standards. Built up to be the biggest event of the year, nine out of ten times someone ended up in hospital with a broken toe or six. People dressed up, strangers made appearances, couples danced the night away, and _everyone_ enjoyed the most luxurious food that money could buy.

Still, this year might have been the one time when everything fell apart. She had barely gotten dressed, and Angelica already felt all the things that could go wrong were going to today. The sun had barely risen over a snowy horizon when she padded into the dining room, but Angelica was still somehow the last one to get there. Poking her head around the corner and immediately receiving the tail end of a disapproving glare from her mother, Angelica barely contained a groan as she walked into the loud, frantic room.

'Mother! Have you seen my slippers?' Peggy, her youngest sister, whined across the table, shaking her bare feet high enough that everyone could see them, 'my feet are freezing!', she all abut screamed at their mother.

'Have you searched your room,' asked her mother, '_thoroughly?' _Peggy just rolled her eyes, tucking her freezing feet underneath her. Angelica buttered a piece of bread, sitting down at her place next to Eliza.

'Eliza, can you ask mother if I can come down this evening, just for a bit…' Philip jr, sitting opposite Eliza, pleaded with his older sister.

'I'm sorry, but, as I've already told you four times in the past five minutes, you'll either have to ask her yourself, or be satisfied that you'll be able to come down when you turn twelve.' she said calmly. Angelica rolled her eyes,

'You're lucky, Philip, I couldn't go until I was _fourteen_,' Angelica said. Philip stuck his tongue out at his oldest sister,

'But still, that means _I_ have four years still left to wait!' He whined at Eliza, who resolutely stayed silent, simply shrugging her slim shoulders in response. Angelica poured herself a cup of still steaming coffee.

'Philip!' her mother shrieked suddenly, and both Philips' heads whipped around just as fast.

'Oh, not you, dear,' she said to her son, and Pilip sat back down, relieved,

'Lucky, because I had _no _idea what she was going to scold me for,' he whispered to his sisters.

'Philip, look at this, and tell me it isn't true!' she wailed, waving a sheet of paper dramatically into her husband's hands. He scanned the letter quickly, eyes widening until the children could see a ring of white around his iris. Slowly, he started to chuckle,

'Oh my god, this man's timing is brilliant!' he said to himself, 'how _does _he do it?'

Angelica cocked her head, 'What is it, Father?' she asked, and Philip Sr beamed,

'Why, the General, George Washington, is going to be dining with us tonight, and you mother is going off the rocker because she still _firmly _believes that man is going to rise to heights as yet unheard of!' he laughed, 'this is better than when that buffoon, Henry Scate, thought he could actually win my seat in the Congress!' Catherine Schuyler rolled her eyes,

'Yes dear, but now we need a welcome fit for the future President, and we can't do that in less than a day,' she said, forcing herself to speak calmly and slowly, for fear of either screaming hysterically, or whispering hysterically.

Philip rolled his eyes, 'alright dear. One, he is _never _going to be the president, the man doesn't have the guts, and two, even if he _were, _then he still wouldn't be expecting a grand gesture, especially not with such late notice.' Philip said. He had far, _far, _too much experience in placating his easily distressed wife. 'It'll _all _be fine,' he repeated for good measure.

'Tonight's going to be fun,' Angelica whispered to Eliza, who giggled. Philip Jr resolutely stared at his toast, mourning the fact that he would be locked up in his room all evening.

_Later that day_

Angelica Schuyler wasn't _very _vain, or at least she tried to hide it much more than the other girls her age. Still, she had to admit that she looked _stunning _in her new dress. She had always loved pink, but, even out of the dozens of pink dresses she already had this one was by far the best. The skirt was dark magenta and could probably fit a small table underneath it, with layers upon layers of cotton and chiffon. Her bodice glowed with thousands of golden sequins in swirling patterns, and it was tight enough to leave what would probably end up being a permanent mark.

Looking at herself in the mirror of her bedroom, with her tightly curled hair and the white powder covering her face and the red paint on her lips, Angelica either looked like a vampire or she was the prettiest person in the house. She decided to go with the latter. The sun was starting to set, throwing deep golden orange light over the clouds, turning them all the shades of red and orange and yellow possible. People would be arriving soon.

The kitchen probably wasn't the smartest place to go, what with her mother being in a stress-induced rampage and all, but she was hungry, and that was where he ended up going...it was also where she was greeted with what looked like a bombsite. Flour was _everywhere, _Angelica was pretty sure she could see some on the _windowsills, _the cook was shouting at the top of his lungs, and the people her mother had hired for help were scurrying around the massive room like headless chooks. And her mother. She looked positively crazed, standing on a footstool, waving her hands, and shouting orders -sounding more like rants- louder than the cook.

'Mother?' Angelica asked, trying to shout over the din, 'Mother!' Finally, Catherine stopped, and looked towards her daughter, who was hopping foot to foot, trying not to get any flour over her new dress.

'Yes dear?' she asked, suddenly calm for Angelica. 'You look absolutely gorgeous, if that was what you were asking.' Angelica knew that.

'No, Mother. I came to tell you that you should, perhaps, get dressed, for our guests will be arriving soon. We told them to come at sundown, and the sun is already setting.' Angelica replied, not saying anything about how she had really come down for a snack. Her mother's eyes widened comically, and she almost tripped jumping down from her pedestal, rushing towards a curtained window, and taking in the very beautiful sunset.

'Why did nobody tell me sooner!' she wailed, 'it will take me much longer than what we have to get ready!' Angelica rolled her eyes,

'I'm sorry, mother.' she spun around, but not too forcefully, for there was too much flour on the floor for her dress to spin with her, and left to Eliza's room.

Eliza jumped when she heard a knock on her door. She had changed into her evening wear long ago, and had tried to get a start on the new book she had bought weeks ago, and had been procrastinating on reading. Putting the heavy book down with a sigh of relieve, she opened to door to her sister, who looked dazzling in a brand new dress.

'Hey, 'Liza!' she said, bounding into her room and flopping on her bed. 'Pretty dress, I knew you'd go blue!' Eliza smiled. It seemed as though all three of the Schuyler sisters had picked a colour years ago, and stuck to it since. She was blue.

'Duh.' Eliza said. 'How much time until we have to go down?'

'I don't really know, but I do know it's less than a half hour.'

Eliza groaned. She absolutely _detested _the big parties her parents seemed to always be throwing; there were too many people, it was way to loud, and her cheeks always hurt at the end from being pinched by overbearing relatives and family-friends. Angelica laughed,

'Come on! We haven't had a party this big in months,'

'Most people _never _have a party this big, _ever,' _Eliza retorted.

'Well, you should know by know that we are not _most people,' _Angelica grinned, and Eliza flopped down on her bed beside Angelica.

'Catherine!' Philip Sr bellowed up the stairs, 'we need to greet our guests!'

'I'm coming, give me a minute,' came the harried reply.

'We don't have a minute!'

So, Catherine arrived on the landing with a messily tied corset, and her makeup only half on. She was lucky she even had time to _brush_ her hair. She practically threw herself down the stairs, miraculously staying steady on her feet despite the unusually tall steps and her floor length dress.

'See dear, I'm here, you don't need to worry.' Philip barely had time to roll his eyes before they both marched into the entrance to greet the -as always- overly punctual, overly eager, Thelson family.

Catherine hadn't even had the time to perfect her _You're a boring, pretentious moron _smile, which she was regretting not two minutes into idle conversation with Miranda Thelson.

'Have you heard about that new fellow, the one who made such a big stir at Livingston's last gala, Church?' Miranda asked quite suddenly, 'they say he scored a position in the Congress not two days after he arrived from _England!' _Catherine raised her eyebrows, finally, some interesting news,

'Really? Because my daughter was speaking to me about him a few days ago. Apparently, she had the pleasure of meeting him at the party, and the two were together for a large part of the evening.' She told Miranda, rather self-importantly. It was everything to have connections, even if you were part of the most elite group of aristocrats in the country. Miranda laughed,

'Poor philip; does he know?' Catherine shook her head.

'Well, good luck telling him, the man hates anyone from England, but I heard he took a particular dislike to this young man from the first time they met in Congress!'

Catherine had most definitely _not _known that.

Eliza was lucky the younger two sisters didn't have to make an appearance until after the banquet. Angelica, on the other hand, had had to be down at exactly seven thirty, or there would have been "severe consequences". It was lucky she was the one that most enjoyed attention, unlike Eliza, who stuttered every time a stranger got withing three feet of her, which made it hard for potential suitors to come ask her for a dance…(she had seen it happen several times!)

It was after dinner, and Angelica had to consciously stop herself from grinning like a fool, if only to keep her makeup from smudging. She couldn't remember how many times she had gone though the same routines before, but she did know that it would never get less fun.

'Good evening, miss Livingston, how do you do?' she curtsied from a half-step behind her father. Her friend couldn't conceal a half mad grin.

'Why, I'm simply _marvelous, _miss Schuyler, what a wonderful evening this _is,' _Catharine, or Kitty, Livingston drawled in an imitation of an english accent that would have made any native shudder. She looked at Mr Schuyler,

'_Do _you think you could excuse _miss _Schuyler for some time, sir?' she asked, batting her eyelashes prettily, though the affect was rather watered down, what with her insistence to speak in that dreadful accent. Even the dignified Mr Schuyler was forced to shudder,

'Alright, but please at least _try _to act like a lady, Miss Livingston.' KItty was already skipping away, dragging Angelica behind her.

Angelica yelped as she was dumped unceremoniously on a loveseat in a secluded alcove behind a curtain.

'What do you _want?' _she glared at her friend, 'I was just going to ask Father if I could leave to find someone, and now I'll have to wait until the end of the night!' that just made Kitty beam even wider,

'and that _someone_ wouldn't be a certain John Church now, would it?' she asked in her usual accent. Angelica groaned, her face already in her hands.

'Hoe did you _know _that?'

'Let's just say word gets around, and your father is not impressed, _at all, _so if you want to find him, you're going to have to ask your mother to ask Mr Schuyler on your behalf,' Kitty said, slumping down on the couch beside Angelica, regardless of her rumpled dress.

'Well,' getting up suddenly, Angelica straightened her tightly corseted back, 'we'll figure out some way.'

'Yes!' yelled Kitty a bit too loudly, 'I was hoping you would say that!'

To be completely honest, John Church had no idea what he was doing at the ball, and he only had the vaguest idea what it was even _for. _He had turned up just because someone, he thought it was one of the Morrisons, but he wasn't sure, had invited him to come up. The man had said it was only a modest gathering, where he might introduce John to some friends, but then again, John should have known that these people never did anything "small". He hadn't even found

Morrison yet, and he had been here since the beginning (he thought).

So, Church was wandering around after dinner quite aimlessly with a glass of some liquour in his hand that he wasn't sure how he had come across. His jacket was starting to itch, and the bright, stuffy atmosphere was starting to crowd in on him. He might have been to many functions, but he never quite got used to them. John was about to slip into an alcove, if only to regain his personal space, when he bumped into his host.

'Mr Schuyler!' he greeted, regretfully falling back into the polite foreigner persona, which was even worse when he knew Mr Schuyler hated him, 'I must say, this is truly a beautiful gathering you have put together.' Philip Schuyler rolled his eyes,

'Please, son, this is nothing.' he said shortly before muttering something under his breath that John couldn't quite catch but thought sounded something like, 'not that you would know anyway.' John had to restrain himself from sighing out loud. He had known when he had moved to America that not everyone would be happy to accept the fact that he came from England, but it was always annoying when people were rude to him for no reason. Especially people whose daughters he might like to get to know better.

As he thought about it, John Church knew didn't normally get hung up over girls. He wasn't a heartbreaker, but he wasn't soft either, and he was quite charming, if he did say so himself. Either way, it was definitely strange that after they had spoken once for a while on a freezing balcony, he couldn't seem to get a certain girl out of his head. Angelica Schuyler. He didn't know her middle name. He didn't know if she _had _a middle name. In fact, he didn't know so many things about her that he was starting to think he was going mad liking a girl he had only ever spoken to once.

Nevertheless, he was going to give it a shot. 'Pardon me, sir,' he started, awkwardly trying to keep up with the taller man who moved through the crowd with an ease John would never achieve. 'But I was wondering if you could tell me where I could find your daughter?' that got his attention, at least.

'What do you want with Angelica, if that's who you're talking about?' Mr Schuyler growled, aggressive at the mention of his daughter. John would have backed away if it was possible in the throng of people.

'I only wanted to speak with her sir.' he said.

'Well, too bad. I couldn't tell you if I wanted to. Miss Livingston had her last I knew.' Mr Schuyler told him, before walking off briskly.

This time, John didn't hold back the sigh, and headed off to find that alcove he'd been looking for. Eventually, after a good deal of wandering and accidentally walking in on couples doing their thing, John thought he had found a nice place. It wasn't an alcove, more a hollow in the wall that could either have been a design flaw, or that was supposed to hold a truly massive sculpture; so, it was a tiny, tiny, room. There was an opening that was rather like a door, and John walked in with his fingers crossed that there wouldn't be anyone inside. There was somebody inside; and John would have hit something if it had been anyone else.

'Mr. John Church?' the surprised voice asked, eyes wide. He smiled excitedly.

'Miss Angelica Schuyler! How nice to see you!' which was when he noticed the third figure in the room, who was grinning like the cheshire cat.

'So _that's _Church!' she said to Angelica, who looked on the line between delighted and mortified.

'Shush, Kitty, remember your _manners,' _Angelica said in an exaggerated whisper, before turning to John and saying apologetically, 'I'm sorry for her, she's her family's disappointment.'

'Am _not!' _the girl - Kitty - huffed, crossing her arms and pouting like a child.

'Go away.' Angelica said in the same whisper. Kitty smiled, 'I'll leave you two _lovebirds _alone.' she said, and twirled out of the tiny room, shoving passed John, who was a little bit rooted to the spot.

'Well,' Angelica muttered, almost to herself, 'at least that was easier than kidnapping Pip and asking this as a ransom…'

'Ex_cuse me?_' John exclaimed, not quite able to keep an outburst in. Angelica asked awkwardly,

'Maybe could you just ignore that?' her eyes widened, 'sorry! Where are my manners? Do sit down.' she patted the seat beside her a little bit frantically. John sat down, playing with his fingers, not knowing what to say.

'So I was looking for you tonight,' Angelica said suddenly. _Yes! _He thought, maybe he hadn't been pining in vain. At least he had seen her again, which was honestly more than he could hope for anyway.

Kitty Livingston considered herself Angelica Schuyler's best friend. And that title came with responsibilities. Responsibilities that, she believed, included watching Angelica and John as they awkwardly tried to start conversation. It was the first time she had actually seen Angelica crush on someone, and she was more than certain that John Church felt the same way; it was Angelica, after all. Everyone loved Angelica.

Still, there was no familiarity in the air, and Kitty was seriously considering revealing herself to the two flustered idiots after the third time they came back the how coincidental their meeting was, if only to give them a common enemy. That was before Angelica came to know about Church's prestigious position within the Continental Congress, and if she didn't know her better, Kitty would have thought that was to only reason Angelica was interested in him, based on how the conversation sparked after that.

'My father was voted into a seat there last year,' Angelica said, more animated than before.

Church nodded vigorously, 'I know! That man in downright frightening when you're in front of him, asking for more money without concrete reasons to why,' Angelica cocked her head, and Kitty was sure from there that they didn't need her help. She stayed, though.

'Why would you need money?' Angelica asked.

'When they made me Auditor of Financials for the northern branch of the military, that also meant that I had to request funding for them if need be; and even though they have more than enough firepower, the Congress seems to forget that our soldiers are people too. They don't have basic clothes, Miss Schuyler! They are fighting in this dreadful weather amplified by ten on the border of Canada, and they don't have the funding for tents without any holes!'

'Call me Angelica,' John slowed at that, and the passionate fire in his eyes died down a bit.

'Thank you, Angelica,' he said softly, and Kitty smiled. Her friend had chosen well.

They spoke after that, but their words were quieter, and Kitty had a harder time following their conversation. She was sure the words never died down though, both out of interest in her friend and interest in the gossip (she was only human after all!). Despite that, when she peeked around the corner during a lull in the conversation, it was only because they were kissing. After that, Kitty left to enjoy the party herself; Angelica would be fine.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi again! I am ****_so _****sorry for the long break, but the good news is that I wrote quite a bit during it! When I first wrote this chapter, it was around four times as long, so now I have three more chapters waiting to be published! This means that I can, hopefully, bring my writing back to an at least semi-regular weekly/bi-weekly rate. Thanks for sticking with me, and here's the chapter!**

_3rd January 1776_

_Dear Miss Schuyler,_

_I do hope I am not being terribly forward writing to you, as I know I have a habit of being, but I simply could not wait any longer. Firstly, I must apologise to you for my outrageous behaviour last week. It is not a good man's attitude to show such an open display of affection for someone he barely knows, and I am almost sure that it went against both your upbringing and your values. I was acting like some common scoundrel; and if I made you feel at all badly, towards me or otherwise, please let me be quick in offering my sincerest apologies._

_However, I must also admit a growing affection towards you, and if you would be willing to, I would be deeply grateful if you asked your father permission to begin a courtship, as I think we both know how unlikely he would be to allow it if I were the one asking. I know we have only met twice, and even that on the most informal and, dare I say it, inappropriate, grounds, but I would take a chance for you, and I only hope that you can say the same. _

_Please write back, and, if possible, keep this between us; I know your father wouldn't hesitate to crush me underfoot, both metaphorically and physically! I eagerly await your reply,_

_The kindest regards, _

_John Church _

Philip Schuyler folded the small piece of undeniably expensive paper roughly into a ball, his lips pressed together so tightly they were barely visible. He had read the letter through once, and then again, and then once more, just to make sure he hadn't been dreaming the first two times, before coming to the conclusion he was at now. _These English bastards are uncivilised buffoons! This is no way to court a _woman_, much less a young girl! _He looked around the garden furtively, ignoring how he knew there was nobody around as far as the eye could see. Philip took his duties as a father seriously, and protecting his daughter from thickheaded morons was one of those duties. Needless to say, Angelica Schuyler would not have to be exposed to such a _dirty _substance, not while she was under his roof! And that disrespectful boy, he would learn proper civility, if Philip had to box it into his thick English skull!

He threw the offending piece of paper into some nearby bushes with the power and aim of the ex-artillery general he was. The wind was suddenly much too cold, and the day was beginning to turn into dusk. As Philip began trekking uphill to the house, he felt much more restless than when he had come down; perhaps it was time to talk to the girls again about the dangers of going into town…

'Father! I do not say this to be rude or ungrateful, but this is the third time this week that you've told us not to go downtown without a chaperone, and it's yet to turn Thursday!' Angelica protested before Philip had even started his speech to the three girls sitting in the living room in front of him. He was trying not to be angry, he really was, but it was starting to become rather difficult; his mind was almost entirely preoccupied with thoughts of letters and lies and teenage lust, and his daughters were looking up at him, their eyes already glazed over with boredom.

'However many times I may have told you before, Angelica,' Philip replied, calm through gritted teeth, 'could not possibly have been enough. Not with the war brewing on the horizon. Not with the kinds of riffraff that wander those streets, especially after sundown. You know the army will soon be calling me to join their ranks as well as I do, and I want your mother to have an easy time with you children, which means you have to learn to follow _every one _of my instructions. This means that you'll _all _have to be home before the sun sets, starting today, and do try not to talk to anyone on the streets whom you don't already know.' he finished his speech staring down at the young girls - _women - _before him, and he couldn't keep in a heavy sigh. It had only just begun, but Philip could already tell this was going to be a long year. 'Do you understand?'

'Yes, Father. And, please, just, know that we will do anything we can to help you and Mother. Always.' Peggy replied promptly, ducking her head just a bit. It had always been her who followed the rules without complaint, and she wasn't going to break her streak now. Eliza and Angelica chorused their agreements after her, a little blank and a little bored.

'Can you believe the absolute _torture _that Father's subjecting us to? Angelica asked once they were all safely in her room with the door closed, 'I mean, I can understand basic safety, but if you _will _warn us of the danger in the real world, at least help us defend ourselves!' Peggy rolled her eyes at her sister's outburst, 'we don't _have _to know how to save ourself from any attack if we don't go places where _we'll be attacked,' _she said.

Eliza, who up until that point had been listening quietly, reached into one of the many folds in the petticoat, to reveal a tiny, glimmering something. 'And even if I am attacked, it's not like I'm defenceless.' she added, holding out the wickedly sharp blade. Angelica's eyes widened in excitement, and Peggy's widened in what horror.

'_How -'_

'_Where -'_

They started at the same time, both stumbling over their words, much too surprised to form any coherent sentences.

Eventually, Angelica started, 'alright, why do you have a _knife _on your _person?' _she asked, not quite sure whether to laugh, be worried, or ask where she could get one of her own.

Eliza smiled, 'Mother sometimes lets me go into town to pick up groceries or run errands and that kind of thing. She gave me the knife maybe a year or so ago because, and I quote "New York isn't just a small town anymore! You have to know you aren't at the mercy of whomsoever comes at you in the dark!" Anyway, it not like I can even use it or anything.' she said, looking into the ground bashfully.

Quite unable to stop herself, Peggy added, 'how did you, the _angel child _manage to let Mother give you a weapon, when I can barely get her to give me new curtains for my room?' she whispered, almost reverently.

Eliza moved to show her younger sister the, as Peggy now realised, quite tiny, knife; but she didn't get very far before Peggy, ever the soldier, leapt away onto Angelica's bed with a strangled shriek.

'There is _no way _I will trust you to hold that near me.' she stated resolutely. Trying not to laugh, Angelica plucked the blade from Eliza's hand and brandished it theatrically in the air.

'_Damn _Eliza. Remind me never to underestimate you again.' She said, and then, 'oh get away from there Peggy, it not like I'm going to stab you with this or anything.' as if on cue, a bird, Eliza thought it might have been a robin, smashed into the bedroom window with a startling crash, prompting Angelica to drop the knife into the wooden floor, where it stuck like an oversized pin in an oversized pinboard.

'You think?' grumbled Peggy, curled into the blankets like a cat, raising her eyebrows. Angelica just rolled her eyes.

-Peggy Schuyler didn't like to break to rules. She thought it was a horrible risk, and more than often it was just for the thrill of it to break the rules; and it was more than evident that, what with Angelica being a nuisance enough for four children, that her parents did _not _need the extra stress. That didn't mean she _never _broke the rules.

It was well past midnight when Peggy, still in her nightgown and slippers, padded down to the gardens. It was a beautiful night for the dead of winter, the moon was out and shining brightly, and Peggy was a notorious insomniac. Her eyes had barely adjusted to the dim light, and she was more relying on muscle memory than eyesight. The fresh, icy air felt almost painful to her warm body, but she didn't mind, glad to get out of her unreasonably stuffy room. All the winter-blooming flowers had closed their petals, as asleep as plants could be, and Peggy felt as if she were the only person awake in the world. It was strangely freeing.

The wind started to blow, and Peggy picked up her pace; she didn't want to go inside just yet, but, if her blue fingertips were any indication, she would probably have to. Nevertheless, she continued, determined to make at least one trip around the large garden. The suddenly howling wind was blowing her hair into her face, along with leaves, flower petals, and the occasional twig.

'The weather was wonderful before I came out, too…' Peggy muttered to herself, dolefully. As she was looking around herself, wondering if it would be quicker to finish the loop or go back the way she came, a round piece of rustling paper collided into the back of her head with a resounding _thud. _

'Ugh,' she said under her breath as she reached to the back of her head to pick out the offending object. Eventually, her frozen, half numb fingers came into contact with a round paper ball, stiff with the cold. She untangled it from her hair and unfolded the haphazardly crumpled ball.

'Dear Miss Schuyler...I have a growing affection...reply soon.._Church!' _she squealed the last bit, suddenly happy she had made the stupid decision to take a walk at midnight in the freezing cold.

'I _knew _he had potential!'

Pocketing the letter, she walked back to the house with a new spring in her step. Her only question, which presented itself right as she was on the brink of sleep that night, was _what was the letter doing crumpled up in the bushes?_

_My dear John Church, _

_I hope you are well, and I hope I haven't sent this too late. I have a feeling your letter may have gotten lost in the mail, because for reasons I have yet to discover, it had ended in the hands of my sister, Margarita. She gave me the letter on the fifth, and, as I hope you can see, I wrote back the very same day. _

_Before I say anything else, I must say that it wasn't just your decision; besides, we never did anything too scandalous (I should know, for you would not want to hear the stories I could tell of young couples drunk on love, and perhaps a good bit of liquor). Our behaviour might not have been held to the same principles as my upbringing has been, but it never went against my values, which, really, are all that matter. Nevertheless, I graciously accept your apologies. _

_Moving onwards, your feelings are most certainly not unrequited. I am deeply thankful for your gentility, and I will be looking forward to our courtship. _

_Please wait upon a further letter from me,_

_Yours,_

_Angelica Schuyler_

Angelica was not eloquent, at least in writing. Instead, she preferred to leave all her letters to Eliza, who could spout off the most beautiful nonsense in a few short minutes. So it wasn't much of a surprise that the one letter she had written herself wasn't the most flowery. Still; at least it was straightforward. When she had finished writing, Angelica hadn't bothered to proofread her three measly paragraphs, in a mindless hurry to send off the letter in time for the postman's evening rounds. She was regretting that decisions now, as she anxiously sat reading in the lounge, remembering mistakes that she wasn't sure were real in the letter she had written; not comprehending a word in her book.


End file.
